


How Bilbo Baggins Went on A Journey And Didn't Return The Same

by musicaltrash_24601



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Author is trying, Canon Compliant, kind of poetry?, this was actually for a creative writing class, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicaltrash_24601/pseuds/musicaltrash_24601
Summary: This was an emulation for my Creative Writing class but I liked it a lot so I decided to post it here! Enjoy!
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 2





	How Bilbo Baggins Went on A Journey And Didn't Return The Same

Books.

Pipe weed.

The familiar scratch of the carpet under his feet.

A disgruntled wizard showing up to tell him that he needs to find out who he is again.

The very same wizard ruining his freshly painted door by scratching it, the very nerve of that man!

The thirteen dwarves who just decided to show up out of nowhere.

Their raunchy jokes and the way they drank beer like it was water.

Voices that interrupted his much-needed sleep.

Ugly, rough troll voices as he snuck around to free the ponies.

The unfamiliar weight of the sword in his hands.

The blue glow of the blade as orcs neared.

Bilbo was already sick of this quest to retake Erebor and it had only been a month. He was sick of being the target of orcs and trolls and the criticism from Thorin.

Elvish words spoken with such dignity that they sounded like they could be from another world.

Soft sheets.

Books and quiet, elegant voices.

Long, dark hair and meticulously plated food.

Warm food. Healthy food. Something other than that stew that Bofur and Bombur always made.

The waterfalls of Rivendell as they crashed lithely against rocks below.

He wanted to stay here, but he was needed.

He was needed to retake the dwarves’ home. Needed to find the precious jewel. Needed because Gandalf said he was. Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but he continues on with the Company anyway.

The smell of goblin breath.

The clang of his sword as he falls through empty air for what feels like forever.

A golden ring that seemed to gleam, even without any light.

Bilbo’s breath left him with a whoosh as he hit solid ground. His blade still glowed a bright electric blue. He knew there was a goblin nearby. There was a soft, creepy singing coming from across a small lake and Bilbo’s blade flickered. He hated this stupid quest.

Riddles.

The choking cry of the creature that chased him for its precious.

The way the ring somehow found itself on his fingers.

The small pop that echoed in his ears as he disappeared.

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, cursing the fact that they ever even thought about bringing someone like Bilbo on this quest.

Anger and a furious need to prove himself, fueling his response as he took the ring off and stormed forward.

The fire in the trees. On the ground. It was everywhere.

Eagles coming to save them.

A single mountaintop. The Lonely Mountain.

Forests that are made to confuse and spiderwebs.

Freakishly large spiders that weave those terrifying spiderwebs.

Climbing up a tree that’s slippery and rough at the same time.

The fresh, cool air that hits his face as it breaks through the leaves.

His sword, still heavy in his hands, as he swung at the spiders.

More elves, but different this time.

Wilder elves, who are reckless and less caring.

The coldness of the prison cells.

Water, cold and terrifying against his face.

Bilbo was starting to understand why Hobbits never left the Shire. It was terrifying out here in the world. But after every terrible event, when Bilbo saw his friends safe and alive, he always breathed a sigh of relief.

Wet, slimy dead fish touching his already wet clothes.

The smell. Oh, blessed be, the smell. He smelled like fish and if that wasn’t bad enough, he had to climb through Bard the Bowman’s plumbing to get into his house.

Hushed voices as the Company of Thorin Oakenshield left for The Lonely Mountain in the dead of night.

Triumphant cries as the secret mountain door opened with the soft click of a key.

Bilbo worried. He worried about the way Thorin’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight, like all he could think about was the treasure inside. And not just gold, but the most coveted treasure inside Erebor. The Arkenstone—the Heart of the Mountain.

A voice so deep and old that it shakes Bilbo to his very core.

Smaug the dragon, fire drake from the North and the current greedy owner of all of the treasure of Erebor.

Panting. Coins slipping. The glow from the Arkenstone always just out of reach.

Angry shrieks from the dragon who was covered in gold by dwarves looking to reclaim home. Bilbo was hiding, holding the Arkenstone close to his chest so it was kept out of view.

Terrified crying from the people of Dale. People running, people saving what they can before it’s all burned to ash.

Bard the Bowman and Thranduil, king of the woodland elves, standing above Bilbo as he offers them the Arkenstone if they could just please not go to war.

Bilbo was beginning to grow weary. He was tired of greed, of dwarves. All he wanted to do was go back to his books and comfy armchair. Tears rolled down his face as he ran away from Erebor and Thorin, who was crazed with his lust for gold.

Armies. Soldiers everywhere. Men, Elves, Dwarves, Orcs. There was no stopping this battle.

The two figures on the ice, engaged in battle.

Every part of him freezing when Thorin Oakenshield was stabbed.

Azog died, but Bilbo didn’t care. He cared about Thorin and getting him to safety.

Eagles. Eagles had come to save them again.

Thorin was dead. Bilbo had no choice but to leave. The return journey was quiet with only one stop. He chased off the people who had the audacity to buy any of his belongings. Hobbits started calling him “Mad Baggins”. He was that hobbit. The one who left and explored like no other hobbit had, save for his mother Belladonna Took. Bilbo sat down in his armchair after buying back all of his belongings and looked around at all of his books… and cried. Bilbo Baggins never lost the longing for adventure, nor did he lose the sadness from what he saw. When he was an old, old hobbit and the elves quietly offered him a chance for one last adventure, he took it graciously. A chance to leave Middle Earth on the last ship to the Undying Lands and be free from any more burdens. Bilbo sat down with a smile and waited with quiet excitement for one last adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> This was, again, for my Creative Writing class. It was inspired by "Shit Cassandra Saw That She Didn’t Tell the Trojans Because at that Point Fuck Them Anyway" and if you haven't read that, give it a read! Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Let me know what critiques you have or what you liked.


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